


But No Longer

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:32:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His face looked sunken, dark, flat. He recognized it. A part of him that still felt things hated it. But it moved with his own movements now, blinked with him, belonged to him. Just a mirror, skin and bone and muscle all belonged to him. </p>
<p>Post-Nogitsune AU. No specific timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But No Longer

On the first night, Stile rose without a sound and sat on the edge of his bed. He knew the feeling well enough, it had come back in his dreams without fail at least three times a week. Never spoke, just looked at him with his own eyes, watching, waiting, prowling. He counted his fingers twice to be sure that the waking moment was real. Ten fingers. Or maybe that was a trick of the mind too. He was too transfixed by the feeling to draw up any proper investigative energy. No, the spirit was here. It was in the box, but it was still here.  
“I’ve missed you. I’ve wanted you,” it said to his mind. In his mind. From his mind. Did it matter? Stiles sat and listened to it whisper, voice no longer forming words Stiles understood. Or maybe they weren’t words at all. When Sheriff Stilinski found him in the morning, he was still there on the side of the bed, fingers tapping absently. The voice vanished with the morning sunlight but the feeling remained.  
\---  
The second night, Stiles woke to see it standing in front of him. Or maybe not. Or maybe so. It reached out to touch him with his own fingers, but they passed through him, sending a tremor of whispers through him.  
 _I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you._  
Its words echoed like a shiver.Stiles just looked on, as though it were a movie. A dream. A nightmare. Was there a difference? He let the spirit touch his face, his chest, his arms. Lower. Higher. Nothing stirred, for the hands, his hands, just passed through.  
 _I’ve wanted you._  
He had, he had. Maybe the box would keep the spirit away. Maybe it wouldn’t come to desire.  
In the morning, his face looked sunken, dark, flat. He recognized it. A part of him that still felt things hated it. But it moved with his own commands now, blinked with him, belonged to him. Just a mirror, skin and bone and muscle all belonged to him. He carried the feeling the whole day.  
\---  
On the third night, Stiles walked to the veterinarian’s office alone in his pajamas. He was awake, not sleepwalking, but still it didn’t feel real. The voice chanted its words I’ve missed you as he entered the dimly lit I’ve wanted you but vacant shelter. The feeling was concentrated in a cloud where he sensed it.  
The polished wood shone in the bare light bulb’s glow. The three circles wrapped around each other. _The sun, the moon, the truth._ Scott didn’t know. Did anyone? Stiles hadn’t been thinking about them. In fact, he only vaguely remembered his friends’ worried glances in school. But that was ok now.  
 _That doesn’t matter, Stiles._  
That didn’t matter now. The box sat in front of him, whispering. His mind felt empty without the whispering. The words were quiet, Stiles didn’t know what they were saying, but he needed to hear them. He traced the outlined shapes on the carved surface. _The sun, the moon, the truth._  
It was almost morning before he padded back to his house in silence.  
\---  
 _I’ve missed you._  
The words weren’t confined to night now. He sat in class, facing the board but eyes clouded and blank. Lydia and Scott exchanged a glance behind him. He couldn’t see it but he sensed it. He sensed more now.  
“Stiles, are you going to be ok on your own? Do you want me to call your dad?”  
Want? Stiles hadn’t wanted anything in days. Or had he? Surely he had. He shook his head, set down the pen he’d been absently tapping.  
“Do you want me to take you home?”  
 _I’ve wanted you._  
“Yes,” he said, picking up his bag. Scott took him home.  
\---  
The fifth night Stiles found himself drawn to the office again. Deaton’s office. He counted his fingers again, and in doing so, it occurred to him that maybe he shouldn’t go. Dreams didn’t usually act this way, did they? Maybe it should be daytime when he went, with Scott or Kira or Malia or Lydia.  
 _Go._  
He went. The box waited patiently, the spirit wearing his face walking beside him. The fingers hadn’t felt solid yet. They still sent whispers, though. Stiles wasn’t sure he liked the whispers. He had been with whispers before, he had fought them, he had resisted--  
 _All will be well._  
All would be well. He folded his legs to cross underneath him. The box felt smooth in his fingertips. Were they his fingertips? No, they were the other’s fingertips, his, but not his. He felt them both. The wood was smooth, so smooth.  
 _The sun, the moon, the truth._  
Stiles thought of the werewolves’ saying. Three things cannot long be hidden. Scott liked the truth. Was Scott ok? Were the others? He pushed until he could find a memory, taking the strength he had to watch over them. Yes, they were fine. They had been mentioning those words a lot lately. Stiles had words that followed him too.  
 _I’ve missed you. I’ve wanted you._  
The spirit placed a hand on his shoulder. The bony fingers felt cold. Since when could he feel the cold?  
 _But no longer._  
Stiles opened the box.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't done much TW before, tell me what you think!


End file.
